The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)

The windows are open in the council board room, a heavy course of murky air humming from wall to wall.

There are six swiveling heads. Bickering, spitting arguments and accusations, digging up each other’s dirty laundry, and tossing it on the table for the council to see.

Their noses stick high in the cold air, unraveling heavy sighs and grunts of annoyance with one another. I was summoned to a meeting with them. They want to discuss the happenings and Dessin’s fate. One of them alone, I wouldn’t give a second thought, but all six of them sitting around me have my fingernails digging into my thighs and my back cemented into the chair.

The council has an entire wing to themselves. We are assembled in the meeting hall. It’s larger than necessary, with large bay windows exposing the garden. The walls and ceilings are crafted with polished red cedar wood and designed with the same pristine carvings as the long rectangular table we are sitting around. I trace the engravings with my index finger as they argue without acknowledging me or my opinion.

Why did they even ask me to attend?

Judas seems to be the only levelheaded member of the council. He speaks professionally, not interrupting anyone’s turn to speak or demeaning their points of view. “Our initial response can’t just be to execute a life, Martin. This kind of situation requires time for discussion and evaluation. We know nothing about Patient Thirteen or the reasons behind his acts of aggression and hostility. Perhaps, if we can uncover that information, it will make our system of evaluating his terms of punishment more clear.”

“I beg your pardon,” Martin scoffs. “He must be mad!” He blasts to the rest of the room. “This man tried to kill that woman. He almost killed all of us, and we’re actually going to take the time to find a proper punishment for him?” Martin is wiggling off of the edge of his seat with frustration.

I had a feeling he would be the one to vote for Dessin’s death.

“Judas, I know you mean well, but what kind of leaders would we be if we let this kind of monster live? This shows weakness. Demechnef would eat us alive for this, and you know it.” The direct comment toward Demechnef has me curious. Do they know how Demechnef connects with Dessin?

“Bite your tongue. If Demechnef isn’t already acting toward this incident, then they will shortly, so Martin is correct. We don’t have much time to decide,” Delilah speaks up after listening to the two argue profusely. Her platinum-blonde hair is pulled back tightly into a neat bun, and her clothes are dull. If it wasn’t a dress, it could pass for men’s attire.

“I’m very much aware that this information will get to Demechnef, but that doesn’t change anything. This is between right and wrong. We can’t kill a man for technically not doing anything. Because he didn’t kill anyone. Miss Ambrose is still alive, and so are the rest of us. Yes, he very well could have killed everyone, but he did not. I think that is something we have to take into consideration. We can’t execute a man for finding his morals, even if it was at the last second.”

“Oh, spare me! That’s grim, Judas. We can’t spare his life based on a technicality! This man is unpredictable and dangerous beyond anything we have ever seen. He quite literally danced around every security precaution we carefully designed just to contain this one person. There isn’t anything we can do to contain a beast so vicious.” Female Council Member Sutton breaks down the problem to trigger the first beat of silence in the room.

“We can medicate him until we decide.” Judas’s eyes light up with a solution. “We can keep him unconscious until we find a way to either get him talking or if there isn’t another way out, execute him.”

“It won’t work.” Suseas shakes her head. “He’s somehow immune to any kind of drugs we give him. There’s only one way out—he is a monster, and we have to put him down.”

That’s it. I can’t sit here in silence a minute longer, listening to them think they know what’s best, think that they know him at all.

I know what I need to do.

“He’s not a monster,” I interrupt, my pulse picking up like a shaking maraca. The members fall silent. Suseas shuts her eyes in embarrassment, but Judas looks relieved. “He’s capable of getting better. Can you imagine what must have happened to this man to make him like this? How traumatizing does something have to be to make a man so vicious? What was so horrific that he forced his mind to split to create two different people living inside one person? What could be so terrible? Whatever it was, it happened to him as a child. Do you have children, Lyoness?” I nod my head to the head of the council sitting at the opposite end of the table. He’s the oldest and the one who hasn’t said anything yet. In fact, he’s been keeping a close eye on me for the entirety of this meeting.

Lyoness nods slowly, relaxed in his large chair, dark-brown hands clasped together across his chest. “I do. Two sons.” That ash-colored, raised eyebrow says, Where are you going with this?

“And how exactly would you feel if something so terrible happened to one of your little boys? If then, he was left alone without a home, without a family, wounded and broken. But instead of helping him heal and repair his broken parts… he was to be killed because the people around him were too cowardly to stand up against all odds and help bring a man’s humanity back to him in one piece. How would you feel?”

The other five members turn their heads like cogs in a well-oiled machine to face Lyoness, waiting for his response, searching for a final word to end this chaos.

“I believe Miss Ambrose has conveyed her point,” Lyoness announces, smiling. The other members try to think of something to counter that with, but nothing is coming to their empty mouths.

“I have broken down every case in the intricate section despite what everyone said, even though I was alone with no support or respect from my peers. When I was alone with Dessin, he wasn’t the monster he wants everyone to think he is… He was just a man. A man who is trying to shield his previous host with terrifying mannerisms. It may seem difficult because he seems impossible to connect with, but I’m telling all of you right now that I know I can.”

I didn’t even notice before, but somehow I ended up on my feet. Hands pressed against the surface of the table, leaning toward the shark tank, I challenge them. “He’ll open up to me, I’m sure of it. I’ll bring back the host that came before Dessin, and we can save a life instead of ending one. I’m only asking for a little time. One chance.” The silence in the room has dissipated my gall into cowardice, but I stay standing and wait.

For the first time, the clock behind me ticks loudly, knocking against itself like a gong. Lyoness stands, matching my inward posture.

“You have ninety days.”